


A Single Soul

by HoopyFrood



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Death, Drabble, Dreams, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoopyFrood/pseuds/HoopyFrood





	A Single Soul

The dreams started one week after Ayrton’s death.

He thought nothing of them to begin with. He was missing his friend, his mentor, and he was _hurting_. It was normal. In fact, that first glimpse of Ayrton’s soft smile and dark eyes had been a relief.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Rubinho,” Ayrton had said, gripping Rubens' shoulders tightly. Rubens could feel the pressure of his fingers, smell the soft scent of his aftershave and count the freckles scattered across his nose; all as if he was really there in front of him. He woke up the next morning rested and, remarkably, with his heart feeling a little less heavy.

The dreams continued from that moment onwards. Not every night, but always when he needed them. Needed him.

“Pole position!” Ayrton laughed the night after qualifying at Spa, his overwhelming joy the sincere reassurance and praise Rubens had been subconsciously seeking all day.

When Rubens scored his first career win in Germany, Ayrton hugged him. “About time,” he whispered in Rubens' ear, glowing with pride and happiness.

He woke up crying that particular morning.

It hadn’t been easy, moving on. He got older, much to Ayrton’s constant amusement, married the love of his life, had two wonderful children - yet the dreams never stopped.

“Look after Jenson, he’s going to be big,” Ayrton told him sternly, hands on his hips, when the young Brit became his teammate.

“How’s Felipe doing?” He asked, worried and heartbroken after the small Ferrari driver’s crash in Hungary.

“I can’t believe how tall Bruno has got,” Ayrton wistfully admitted to him on the day of Bruno’s birthday, more pensive than Rubens had seen him in years.

And, the one he’s heard over and over, “Tell Gerhard that I…” A confession that always goes unsaid.

Rubens still dreams about Ayrton, still talks to him. Maybe it’s unhealthy to be so invested with his imagination’s version of a man he didn’t know for as long as he would have liked; a ghost from his past.

But he’s never had a greater friend, and probably never will.


End file.
